Thoroughbreds
by Disco Shop Girl
Summary: Watching Blair's grandmother argue with an aging Senator is not how Chuck expected to spend his Saturday. And he's about to find out that keeping from the love of his life's bed is not just his problem anymore. Set around an alternate 6x04 Portrait of a Lady Alexander


Chuck lifted his glass to his lips and sipped, slowly. It was really a cover, something to pretend to be doing while he was watching the scene across from him with avid interest. It revolved around Cornelia Waldorf. Blair's seventy year old grandmother was shorter than Blair and the merest slip of a woman so she shouldn't frighten anyone. Only right now, she was clearly _pissed _off. Her features were screwed up tight and her teeth were grit as she poked her index finger into Senator Jack Westecott's chest. Hard. The man captured her finger and bent down to hiss something back at her which made it all the more intriguing. Jack and Cornelia were similarly aged, and Chuck had to be curious about what, exactly, two rich, moneyed, _old _people wouldhave to fight about?

Cornelia snapped something back and yanked her hand free of his. Chuck couldn't miss how the older man tried to twine their fingers together for a smidgen of a second, it didn't look too far away from a move he tried on Blair when she was furious with him.

The perfectly set bun at the back of Cornelia's head suddenly shifted as she looked around to make sure they were unseen in their argument. And met Chuck's unrepentant eyes.

Her nostrils flared as she kept eye contact with him for a moment. Long enough for Jack to look too, to see what had captured her attention. Then he anxiously turned to Cornelia.

'Fix it' Chuck read her lips.

Then the petite ball of fire turned and stalked away from both of them.

Jack stood there, watched her go and sighed. He waited for a moment longer, rubbing his hand over his face in weariness. Then he turned and approached Chuck who, now insatiable for details, looked at him expectantly.

No nonsense but affable, he'd had five terms on Congress after all, Jack cocked his head toward the nearest paddock. "Come chat," he invited Chuck.

It was all the invite he needed. He was dying to know what upstate New York neighbours could be so bitterly rivalled about. At a horse auction?

Jack didn't look back in his direction, just walked to where his prized Arabians frolicked on the lush grass of their enclosure and looked out at them.

"Mrs. Waldorf looked upset," Chuck prompted after a minute, when no words seemed to come.

The grey-haired senator snorted. "That's an understatement." He pushed off the fence then leaned back against it, folding his arms over his chest. "It's come to Core's attention that her granddaughter appears to be wearing an engagement ring." He turned his hard brown eyes on Chuck's. "On a necklace."

"Is she?" A suave businessman, Chuck knew his facial expression didn't betray a single emotion.

The older, bluer gaze turned cold, narrowed on Cornelia's petite form. Jack's eyes tracked her through the crowd, the perfect hostess, laughing with this guest, sympathising with next. A little girl in a perfectly tailored pair of jodpers and petite riding hat was standing looking lost, Cornelia knelt before her, a soft smile to calm the child, and lovingly took her hand. Chuck had a flash of unbelievable insight but instantly knew he was on to something. But he didn't say anything, just listened to see what else Jack would confess before the afternoon was over.

"Still," Jack cocked his chin in Cornelia's direction. "She's got it into her head that dragging your feet only tempts fate, means you'll never actually get about to the marrying bit at all." He bent his head for a minute. "She's got that bit right," he mumbled almost angrily. Then he lifted his head and sought Blair out in the crowd.

Chuck's eyes followed. There she was, his woman, just as confident as her grandmother. She was giving Serena's new boyfriend a thorough grilling. A smile was gracing his lips before he had consciously thought about it.

"Core would rather see Blair wear a ring on her finger." Chuck went to open his mouth to respond but was interrupted. "Of course I _told _her that a man doesn't buy a ring to be worn on a chain around her damn neck." He slanted Chuck a sly glance. "But that didn't go down so well."

A long silence ensued between them. Finally Jack huffed and rubbed his face again.

"I'm being flip," he sighed. "Get it off her necklace and on her finger, as impossible as that may seem," he ordered quietly. "Shit gets in the way and suddenly..."

The sentence didn't finish and Chuck actually looked at him, Really looked at him and the way his eyes turned glassy as he watched Cornelia, Queen in her court.

"Suddenly?" Chuck prompted.

"Plans get ruined," Jack said hoarsely.

"We don't have plans," Chuck said quietly, trying to reassure him. "Blair and I have an understanding and when she's ready –"

The older man's loud snort interrupted him.

"Plans," he scoffed. "Are something you don't know you have until there's suddenly no chance of them happening." He abruptly turned away from Cornelia, as if he couldn't stand the sight of her. Instead he looked at his glorious Arabians, galloping after one another through their enclosure.

"I was gonna father five kids, once. That's what I dreamed about, in my twenties."

"Well you have four," Chuck reminded, "you got most of the way there."

Jack's gaze turned down, to his hands well-roughened with callouses, a testament to hours of satisfying work on the farm. "Father," he corrected softly. "Not claim as my own because my whore of an ex-wife had a good night at some dime bar with whatever cowboy bought her two drinks, that's how I got the four you're thinking of. No, I'm talking about actually fathering a child. As in, lie with the love of my life and worship her until she understands how much we're meant to be together. There were meant to be five. Instead there's one."

Chuck was quick. And his gaze shot to Blair, thought about her father, Harold.

"Cat, is my second daughter," Jack gestured to where a pretty blonde in her fifties that looked nothing like him was chatting with a hedge fund backer. "My_ ex_-wife announced she was pregnant with Cat when Harold was only three months old." He turned his eyes, bitter, angry, on Cornelia Waldorf. "And that silly woman had a hysterectomy two days later. If she'd just _asked _me I would have told her I hadn't touched my whore of a wife in years, since the ill-fated night of coke and strippers that got me stuck with the silly bint in the first place."

"Nothing wrong with strippers."

"There is when you end up having to marry one. Waste your life on one. Give up the person you would die for. Destroy _everything_."

Jack grabbed a whisky straight up from a passing waiter and downed it in one bitter gulp. "Core and I were supposed to have five kids," he spat it out, no attempt to disguise what he was talking about now. "We were going to split our time between here and Washington. She was going to be _with me_." His hand squeezed the paling.

"You know how it ends when the ring is on a necklace, Chuck? She marries someone else. You get one perfect, amazing little baby and then you don't even get to raise him because someone else gets to claim him. And she destroys your fucking chance of having any more. Of giving her the one thing she wanted."

Jack slammed his glass down on the fence, abandoning it.

"What's ridiculous is that after it's all ruined – it happens again! Your bloody son hides himself. Your granddaughter has fucked up priorities and marries a Prince. And at sixty nine you can still be ex-communicated from her life because – guess what? She has her own house and her own bed and will banish you from it when you piss her off because what bloody right do you have? You're not her husband."

He looked towards his Arabians as he seethed "Fix your bed Chuck. So I can return to mine."

He took a step towards Cornelia. Who shook her head and took a step back, even though there was a hundred feet and fifty well-dressed guests between them. He took another step forward, saying her name under his breath but she turn and fled.

"Ahh damn it," Jack muttered. His eyes flashed as he saw the flash of tears beginning to wet her cheeks. Then he saw her head for the stables.

Chuck heard him softly swear under his breath and take off towards the stables at a light jog. He was impressed – the guy was still spry for his age. He heard the shout of an annoyed "Core!" proceed hoofbeats a moment before Blair's grandmother came flying out of the stables on a huge black gelding, streaking away from the party guests and towards the open forest at the back of her property.

Not thirty seconds later Jack was atop a chestnut stallion and pounding after her.

And Chuck wove his way through the crowd, circled his arm around Blair's waist and discreetly pulled her into the stables for a private discussion.

Chuck walked into the grand estate's kitchen in his silk robe sporting a satisfied smile on his face the next morning. Cornelia was already in there, sitting at her long white table and scrolling on her iPad.

"Chuck, good morning," she greeted politely. "Breakfast is just about ready," she gestured to where the French chef was dishing up the final batch of crepes.

She seemed so engrossed in her reading, so intent on not making eye contact with him, that she failed to notice the swagger in his step, the self-confidence twinkling once again in his eyes.

The screendoor at the back of the kitchen slammed open with a loud bang and a pissed off "Core!" announced Jack's angry presence.

Cornelia immediately jumped out of her chair, rapidly folding her arms in a tight cross to her tiny chest. "Westecott," she greeted, cool rage simmering beneath this hiss. "You know you're unwelcome here until certain circumstances change."

Her eyes flicked in Chuck's direction then narrowed, snake-like, at Jack.

Jack kicked off his muddy boots on the step and stormed inside onto the pristine white tiles. He'd clearly trekked across the field from the neighbouring property and didn't look like he'd slept for even a few minutes the night before.

"You ridiculous woman," he was snappy, over-tired and already strung taught.

Chuck sensed an unnecessary argument brewing. And he wanted to tell the man that getting white floors dirty was _not _the way to soothe your hotly tempered woman. Before Jack could say something he really regretted, Chuck jumped in with the most pertinent thing he could say.

"Blair and I have some news," he spoke loudly, over Cornelia's enraged screech of "What did you just call me?"

Two fuming grandparents turned their enraged eyes to him. Blair took that moment to arrive with her perfect timing. "What's all the yelling about?" she looked around the kitchen suspiciously.

Chuck waited until she was by his side, then turned and placed a slow, deliberate, lingering kiss on her cheek. Jack seemed to pause in his march across the kitchen while Cornelia still scowled at him. He didn't think she quite comprehended what he was trying to point out. Eager to clear up any misconceptions, Chuck quickly claimed Blair's hand and drew it to his lips, kissing her fingers in soft greeting before he turned to the brewing storm.

With pointed slowness he held up her hand, then deliberately ran his thumb over Blair's newly beringed finger. Going extra slow so Cornelia had absolutely no doubts and poor Jack could catch a break.

"Blair has agreed to marry me," he filled the sudden silence. Jack's face paused then lit up, his eyes darting to a frozen Cornelia. "This summer," Chuck hastened to add, not sure if an engagement would be enough for Jack to make it out of the bad books.

His future smiled against him and he felt her lips land on his cheek. "If we can wait that long," she qualified after a quick kiss. He turned to meet her eyes and for a moment they were lost in each other. "Maybe before Christmas," he corrected.

"Hear that Core?" Jack wheedled up behind a stunned Cornelia, his arms stealing around her waist. "Before Christmas, the kid said."

She didn't wriggle away from him when he pressed up against her back, brought his chin down over her shoulder.

"That ring looks beautiful on your _finger_, Blair," Jack spoke a little louder.

He was actually speaking to Cornelia but it was his granddaughter that turned to him, a bright smile on her face as she intended to accept the compliment. Jack was smug as hell, squeezing the woman he loved into his arms.

Cornelia was silent and still.

"Doesn't it?" he prompted her.

Blair startled back at the sight of her grandmother being almost molested by the neighbour.

"Men don't buy rings for necklaces, do they Chuck?" Jack teased. He tugged a hidden chain free of Cornelia's silken dressing gown before she could stop him.

Cornelia tried to bat him away but it was far too late for that. Blair gasped at the sight of a ring, not so dissimilar from her own, looped on a thin strand of gold around her grandmother's neck. Only this one wasn't a diamond, it was a big-ass Emerald.

"When Blair is pregnant and her fingers are swollen up, she can certainly wear it on a necklace," Chuck politely conceded. He reached for a slice of apple and took a disinterested bite.

Jack grinned. "Hear that?" he taunted in a whisper. "They're going to have kids."

Cornelia didn't respond. He gave her twenty more seconds then heaved an exasperated sigh. He stepped out from around the woman he'd loved his entire adult life and captured her hand, tugging hard.

"What –?" she resisted being pulled from the room, only now coming out of her stupor.

"He got the ring on her finger," Jack pointed at a stunned Blair. "Now take me to bed," he stopped short of stomping his foot but damnit! "It's been a whole goddamn week," he whined "and I'm sick of sleeping next door. _Alone_."

She didn't budge.

"Core," he snapped. "There's only so many years left in this thing. You want me to go limp-dick like that husband of yours while I'm waiting for you to make up your mind if you're still mad at me or not?"

That did it.

"Jack," she reprimanded harshly. "Don't be so crude. My _granddaughter _is here."

He scowled, not in the mood to be played with. He met her flashing gaze head on then smiled malevolently and, without turning his head, lifted his voice.

"Blair," his mouth was like a runaway train Cornelia couldn't stop if she tried. "One very rainy Sunday, in the middle of the coldest winter I can remember, your grandma and me holed up here at the farm in front of the fireplace for the entire weekend."

"Jack," Cornelia held out her hand, tried to stop it.

"Nekkid," he smirked, letting that dirty word linger in the air. While the women were in shock, Chuck nonchalantly crunched down on a piece of apple. "Nine months later your daddy was born."

"Omg I think I'm going to throw up," Blair whispered beneath her breath, blanching at the words.

"And those fur rugs in the sitting room were never quite the same," his final words were purely for Cornelia as he leered at her in remembrance.

"You're a disgusting pig," her narrowed gaze said it all.

"I really am," he agreed wickedly. "Now take me to your bed and punish me already."


End file.
